


take my hand and face the end with a smile

by wowza_sizzle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, American Civil War, Drabble, M/M, everyone dies, i hope my history teacher enjoyed lowkey ExR, only mentions of the other amis, this was a school assignment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:59:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7029769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowza_sizzle/pseuds/wowza_sizzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is a solider fighting with the Union during the Civil War. Enjolras is his squad leader. You know how this ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take my hand and face the end with a smile

**Author's Note:**

> this was an assignment for my history class. i'm sorry for my sins, please forgive me.

13.00 HOURS

“Our regiment is moving today. Towards Burnside, with haste. We are only a mile away, and a battle has begun there. Prepare to leave immediately.” The soldiers stare up at their leader, mouths agape. They watch him shake his head, curly blond hair glinting in the sunlight. This will be the first battle the squad has encountered. A quiet murmur flits through the men, some stand to begin breaking camp, others look in the direction of Burnside. One of the soldiers approaches the squad leader, his uniform wrinkled from days of constant use, hair mussed from a lack of washing. He has a lopsided grin, still half drunk from last night’s celebrations.

“Oh, fearless leader, you know that is a certain death for all of us.” His voice harbors a taunting edge, as if he is trying to spur his leader on. “We might as well all jump off the Burnside Bridge!”

“That’s quite enough, soldier.” His leader is dismissive. They've had this argument before.

“This war is pointless, we should save ourselves instead.” The soldier refuses to back down, and he takes a swig from his flask. “Your idealist thoughts cannot save us in a fight, Enjolras.”

“And neither will your cynical and drunk thoughts, Grantaire.” Enjolras’s cheeks begin to flush with anger. He’s yelling now. “If we get to that battle and you wish to spare your own life, do so! Leave your fellow men to die and you can sleep off the whiskey. We don’t need unbelieving men like you in this fight,”

The soldier laughs dismissively. His leader can’t change his cynical views now, it’s much too late. No amount of guilt can change his mind. He takes another swig from his flask, watching as Enjolras glares at him. Grantaire may not believe in this war (or anything else, for that matter), but there is one thing he puts faith into. He puts that tiny sliver of faith into Enjolras and his stupid beliefs.

Grantaire downs the rest of his whiskey with a grim smile.

***

14.30 HOURS

When Grantaire wakes up, he’s lying in the muddy bank next to the Burnside Bridge. His rifle is next to him, and when he checks, it’s empty of ammunition and mostly useless now. His feet and arms ache dully, sore from days of marching long distances. The river roars, and so does the on-going battle. His head pounds.

Sitting up, he tries to recall the events leading up to him passing out riverside. He remembers his squad leader shouting at him, and he remembers drinking whiskey. A lot of whiskey, in fact. He remembers marching with the regiment to Burnside, and then reaching the bridge. From there, things get fuzzier. Grantaire was very drunk by then, and he realizes there was most likely another argument with his golden leader. It must have ended with Enjolras yelling at him to go and sleep off his drunkenness.

So that’s how he ended up asleep in the mud. He can still hear shouting and artillery in the distance, so he’s probably not that far from the battle. Grantaire can acutely feel the need to make sure Enjolras is still living (that need stings him in the side, like a cramp would). With that, he begins to hike, reloading his rifle as he walks.

***

14.56 HOURS

Grantaire’s being shot at as soon as he reaches the battle. As he looks around frantically, he sees the body of one of his comrades. The broken shape of Jean Pouvaire lies in the mud. A scream lodges itself in this throat, threatening to escape. He dives to the ground, barely dodging a volley of bullets. He crawls in the dirt for a few feet, firing once at a Confederate who stepped too close for comfort.

The battle has devolved into chaos, men firing left and right at men standing mere feet away from them. Grantaire crawls to the side of a building, standing as he steps inside to try and gain temporary cover in order for him to survey the land. He sees mostly Confederates, the soldiers running and shouting at each other. He sees the bodies of his squadron, all of them lying dead. He chokes back another sob.

As he gets himself under control, he looks to another building, identical to the building he’s currently hiding in. He sees something that shocks him into action: his fearless leader backing into the building, facing off eight Confederate soldiers. Grantaire bursts out of the building he was hiding in, sprinting across the field. As he reached the other building, he realizes that his rifle is out of ammunition. He throws it onto the ground as he reaches the building he saw his leader enter. He enters cautiously and goes up the stairs.

As he reaches the top, he sees Enjolras with his back against the sole window in the room, all eight enemy soldiers with their guns pointed at him. His leader is empty-handed. 

Grantaire steps forward without thinking. He yells, "Long live the Union!" crossing the room with a firm stride and placing himself in front of the guns beside Enjolras.

"Finish both of us with one blow," he says.

And turning gently to his leader, he asks, "Do you permit it?”

His leader grabs the soldier’s hand with a smile. The smile doesn’t fade when the gunshots sound. The leader, pierced by seven bullets, remains leaning against the wall, as though the bullets had nailed him there. His head is bowed.

The soldier falls at his leader’s feet, as though struck by a thunderbolt.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here](http://artmaniaa.tumblr.com)


End file.
